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DECEMBER 3, 2020 | The Jewish Home OCTOBER 29, 2015 | The Jewish Home
Israel Today
Hidden Students By Rafi Sackville
I
have taught high school for 37 years: 24 years in Israel, 12 in New York, and my first year in Australia. That’s tens of thousands of hours in front of blackboards that have morphed into smart boards; closing in on 5,000 students who have gone from being occasionally focused to mostly distracted; and teachers like me who have had to adjust to a constantly changing world. Covid-19 has upended so much I thought I knew about my chosen profession. It has turned a noble pursuit into a misty fog that is difficult to understand or define. As the pandemic went from bad to better to worse, hastily-taken decisions about education were made from the Ministry of Education to school administrations. The system became an inconsistent quagmire of uncertainty. Israeli high school teachers are grateful to be represented by a strong union. At the start of the pandemic, the Irgun HaMorim, whose head, Ran Erez, is one of the toughest negotiators in the country, successfully protected us against a government attempt to slash our salaries. The union claimed that distance learning is as difficult and more time-consuming than the work to which we are accustomed. Furthermore, the union gave us cover from those hastily-made decisions that were potentially endangering. For example, when restrictions of 10 in number were placed on internal gatherings like synagogues, the government permitted 18 students-atrisk to a classroom while the regular student body studied via Zoom. There was no reasoning behind the decision. Due to my age, I voiced concern to my principal, who permitted me to teach those classes by Zoom as well. This is where the complications arose. Over 30% of our student body
is in special education. It logically follows that, if it is difficult bringing kids-at-risk to school at the best of times, it has been even more difficult getting them to join Zoom lessons during Covid-19. So we reached a compromise: they set up a make-shift classroom in the huge gymnasium, from where I teach next to the volleyball net. Zoom lessons remain a problem, however. There has emerged a nationwide trend for students not to use their phone or computer cameras. The unintended consequences have been enormous. For one, it is impossible to know whether a student is or isn’t awake. And if they are awake, what are they doing? Only days before writing this, one of my 11th graders didn’t respond minutes after she’d entered our Zoom lesson. I must have called upon her half a dozen times before giving up. When the class ended and the other students had exited class, I left the Zoom link open and listened as she gently snored inches away from her phone. Twenty minutes after the lesson had ended, she suddenly came alive and asked where everyone was. I knew how she was going to respond even before asking her. “I swear I was listening,” she claimed. “I heard every word.” To which I wanted to reply, “In your dreams, dear girl.” Many teachers begged the principal to make it mandatory for students to use their cameras. Although she heard us out, the request was granted. Even the Ministry of Education chimed in, supporting students’ unwillingness to be seen online. I am not alone when I complain that teaching into the void of a black screen borders on unnerving. During one of my classes, I turned off my camera for a minute, curious as to how my students would react. Suffice
to say, they weren’t pleased. Are there grounds to support students refusing to use their cameras? The Australian journal of Education, The Conversation, gives five reasons to support this position. Increased anxiety and stress: Students can feel threatened and uncomfortable, feeling as if everyone is watching them. It’s a legitimate point. During a regular class, students can, should they so choose, avoid being the center of attention. Zoom fatigue: Constant video lessons seem to be more difficult to cope with than regular stress. Competing obligations within the household: In short, it’s not always quiet in households. Distractions may exist that make using a camera inappropriate. The right to privacy: Many students feel uncomfortable allowing others into the privacy of their homes. Financial means and other kinds of access: This can be a serious problem. In our school, not every student has access to smartphones or computers. Our school supplied some of these students with tablets. Notwithstanding the fact that the majority of students are tech-savvy, there is a small percentage who aren’t. I took a drastic step one warm afternoon. I informed my students there would be no Zoom lessons that week. Instead, I would contact each of them personally by WhatsApp video chat. The result was surprising. I had chosen to experiment with a class of 33 gifted, new 10th grade students. When we had learnt together during September, I couldn’t see their faces as they were wearing masks. Being
new students, I really couldn’t identify any of them. Suddenly, they were talking to me by video. Not one of them refused my call or the use of their camera. They felt safe. More importantly, I was thrilled to note they were happy to speak to an adult. I had a palpable feeling of just how they missed the contact of being in school. I have continued these chats and have discerned that, whereas there are some students who love staying at home, there are many more who have been unsuccessful adjusting to distant learning. In this regard, Israel is no different from anywhere else in the world. Students are much better off in school than out. The pandemic has forced a revolution on how children are taught. The change has been too quick and too uneven to measure. The Ministry of Education has not had a uniformed approach to distant learning, the assumption being that the pandemic has to end sometime soon. The mix and match methods of learning differ so greatly from school to school and have led us into unfamiliar territory that is going to have repercussions way after we eventually return to school. In the meantime, we educators persevere, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. We suffer computer fatigue just as our students do. And, here in Israel ,we stare into the deep black screens ever hopeful our students on their other end of the internet connection are awake and willing to learn. Rafi Sackville, formerly of Cedarhurst, teaches in Ort Maalot in Western Galil.
